Only Feeling
by Sephielya J. Maxwell
Summary: Toris has a visitor late at night...


A/N

Started writing this a full two years ago actually, just now went back and finished it. Done by MilaValentine's request and posted here for Generation-Façade. :)

* * *

><p>l<p>

l

Toris used to be a heavy sleeper. He had to be, really. Long, _long _ago when he had shared a home with Poland, they had shared a bed for a time as well. The blond was a restless sleeper; always moving, stealing blankets, and of course there was the kicking. But that was all long past. Now, all it took was the sound of those heavy boots in the hallway outside of his bedroom —no matter how quiet they intended to be. He always awoke to them like this, relaxed and drowsy at first. But no matter how many hours that he had worked or how tired that he was, Toris couldn't stop his heart from picking up its pace. Perhaps it _could _be called a conditioned response; he had so many because of that man… It was not the sound of those thick-soled boots alone, but what he knew would follow them. And it happened just as he knew it would, just how he had come to expect.

Toris heard the door open in the pitch dark of the room, knowing by its slight creak, hinges old and door heavy. No light came in from the hallway, leaving the room as dark as a new moon night—and perhaps it was. The latch as it closed was quiet—he fought not to give a slight smile. Even in the dark, he felt as if it would be seen by the observant intruder. Toris probably wouldn't have heard the footsteps from within the room if he hadn't known to listen for them. Slow, quiet, but heavy and steady. The closer that they came to the bedside, the harder his heart began to pound, until he could hear it in his ears. The sounds of them stopped close to the unoccupied side of the bed, and there was a slight shuffling as the boots were removed. This move was more anxious then the previous ones, as he heard one of them land carelessly on the floor with a small thump.

Sheets slid down along his slender body, letting in the slight chill of the night air even through his night clothes. Bedsprings creaked slightly as the bed dipped; the intruder's considerable weight joining him. Toris struggled with himself not to turn around and face the other. He could have if he wanted to of course. But no, it was better to let the man think that the brunette might still be asleep as he used to be. The bed's new occupant settled close behind him. He knew because he could _feel _the other's heat against his back, though they weren't yet even touching... Another small move, bedsprings protesting, and he felt the first hot wave of breath tickle the back of his neck just an instant before the nuzzle came. Lips were warm and dry when they placed a small kiss there.

The first official _touch _came not from those lips however, but the press he felt just above his left knee. Long, warm—_oh so warm _fingers slipped down around to the inside, sliding in between his thighs. Toris had thought he had been warm underneath the sheets of his bed, but the hand touching him seemed to radiate with heat, penetrating the feeble barrier of his cotton pants until it reached his skin through them. He heard—actually _heard _the one behind him swallow. As if this hadn't been done a hundred times… Slowly, those fingers began to drift upwards. Toris' lips parted slightly, the smallest of sighs from his throat as he couldn't fight the small wiggle it forced from him.

"_Ivan_…" An almost inaudible whisper. The hand didn't stop until it _almost _reached the highest point, instead settling for a slow rub between those slender and toned thighs.

"You're awake." The voice sounded surprised, but the small laugh that followed said that Ivan had known that all along. Toris' breath was growing slightly shorter, teeth finding his lower lip to bite as he shifted his hips again. "Oh?" The husky voice teased; more tickling breath to the back of his neck as he added, "Is this the place, Toris?" The reply came as the sound of a small moan, muffled by the pillow Toris had turned his face into. As everyone discovered eventually, when entering even the earliest stage of arousal certain places on one's body become hypersensitive, creating their erogenous zone. Ivan had long ago mapped out each of the brunette's through careful, one might even say obsessive, searching. Reaching down with one of his hands, Toris seized the wrist of the hand teasing him. Ivan was still wearing his day clothes it seemed, as the sleeve felt too rough to be night clothes. Had he only just now finished working? The Soviet wasn't doing well, and Toris didn't know how many more of these nights they had left… Oh, he _wanted_ his independence, but he had long ago consented that a part of him would always belong to Ivan.

Toris didn't pull the hand higher, nor did he push it away. He left it where it was, holding tightly to that wide wrist as he felt the small waves of pleasure pass through him, building up slowly. The once silent room was now filled with slow and heavy breaths, and the occasional rustle of sheets or clothing. Ivan's right arm slipped underneath Toris' head at the same time that the bed dipped in a bit more. The brunette felt that heat which had been lingering behind him suddenly envelop him in it. The solid body behind him was comfortable and slightly soft just underneath the clothing that Ivan wore to hide it. Of course, there was _one _area that was not soft at all.

How long had it been building up for Ivan? Did he think of Toris while he worked? Did he decide to visit his room then, or was it a whim only when he had finished for the day? Had he gotten halfway to his own room before he chose to change his course and come to Toris' bed instead? The truth was that he would never know, because such details were too personal and vulnerable for the often guarded Russian. As if knowing how much he wanted something would make it go away. But the reality was that he was here now, surrounding the smaller nation with his warmth and light petting, gracing Toris with heavy breathes to the back of his sensitive neck.

Calloused fingertips touched skin for the first time, slipping underneath Toris' short collar to trace at his collarbone. The brunette shifted again to press his smaller body tightly back against the larger frame, feeling their bodies _fit, _as they had learned to do. A thigh slid up to nudge between his own, Toris' breath hitching as it did so, shifting with another rustle of clothing to allow it to slide between them. The hand between his legs moved—never once losing contact, fingers sliding out and over to the side, coming to rest on the back of his left thigh instead, and the brunette released the wrist he'd been holding. Those fingers drifted upwards slowly, up and over the swell of his backside, pressing just enough to indent the supple flesh, and settling on his hip.

The bed shifted as their bodies parted, but the heat didn't dissipate at all this time. With a gentle press to his hip, Toris turned to lay more on his stomach then his side, arms sliding up underneath his pillow with more rustling of sheets. His body felt hot despite the cooler sheets he now lay against, anticipating what came next so much that when those dexterous fingers lifted the shirt up to bear his back, the air felt refreshingly crisp against his slightly damp skin. All the way up to the back of his neck, where it was held by Ivan's right hand, leaving the left free.

It was dark, so dark that Toris' green eyes, though only half open, still couldn't see much of anything around him. He could only _feel, _and what he _felt _was _that hand_, as if it was somehow unable to leave his skin, begin to _trace. _Knowing that those violet eyes behind him couldn't see any better than his own only made it _more _impressive.

His scars were the very testament to the deep link between the two nations, made by the very hand that now traced them so delicately without sight. Like a roadmap, Ivan began to follow them from his shoulders downwards without flaw, earning more than one shuddering breath from the brunette now half-under under the blond. Calloused fingertips were still warm against the damp and sensitive skin of his back, following each new scar as it intersected another, not lifting his touch once. Some of them were raised; others flat against his skin, and a few were even indented into the thin and tender canvas of his back. Yet effortlessly, Ivan found then all.

Lips came next; moist, wet, and smooth against his skin. Ivan kissed one at his shoulder blade, applied a slow lick with his slick tongue to another near it, only to trace the same place with his finger which had returned from its journey downwards as he moved on to suckle at one near the middle of the Lithuanian's arched back. The blond's breath, he heard it as well as felt it, hot and heavy and yet cooling everything it fell across in waves. Soft, rough, slick, and all of it warm, the sensations were almost overwhelming. So much so that even without being directly touched, Toris could feel his own arousal full and ready beneath his night clothes. Hips shifted, a low whine issuing from his throat, but he found himself unable to even press it flat against the bed as he wished to because of the thigh between his legs.

"I…_Ivan…_" The whisper was heavy and desperate. His weakness' mercilessly exploited by the tallest nation, even willful Lithuanian was ready to give in. He actually _felt _Ivan's smile, as the blond's lips were pressed against his back still. The small rumble of a laugh was followed by the small gusts of breath that came with it. Lips brushed one long scar as the other nation answered in a low voice,

"I'm happy…" Ivan said simply, and he gave another slow kiss to the scar he was closest to. His fingers had traced back down, and they were dipping underneath the rim of Toris' pants to continue following where some of the scars continued down to Toris' lower back.

"_Ah… _Ivan…?" The statement perplexed Toris, as the tone of voice that it was spoken in sounded off. Lips pressed to the nape of his neck, his shirt held out of the way with a tight grip. The fingers under the rim of his pants went lower, tracing a scar that wrapped about his hip. Sheets rustled as the brunette shifted, lips slack with heavy breath already.

"As long as I have _moya _Toryshka… _I'm happy…_" The words, each one of them a hot breath on the back of his neck, felt heavy. They almost seemed to carry a threat with them, spoken so passionately. Toris knew that Ivan was falling apart, _again. _Another empire crumbling, another rebirth was nearing. Each time that he was reborn, Ivan seemed to lose a part of himself for good. Only one thing remained constant, as permanent as the marks on the smaller nation's back. "Toris… Toris, aren't _you _happy?" It was a trick question, with an answer so obvious that it had become automatic for the Lithuanian nation.

"_Yes Ivan… I'm happy_." Toris _hated _himself when he had to lie. But even more, he hated himself for _not_ lying. Right answer given, lie or truthful, the Russian was happy. The small hitch in his breath, the way that the hand holding his bare hip pressed its fingers his skin, and the way Ivan pressed tightly against the body in front of him told him that much. Damp clothing pressed against his nude back as Ivan's shirt stuck to it, but neither seemed to care. Being held like this… So tight, warm, and with a desperate kind of strength, Toris _did _love it… just as much as he feared it. The hand on his hip was gone all at once, leaving only the impression of those long fingers and a lower pant-line behind.

The bed shifted, Ivan transferring his weight to the knee that still rested between the smaller nation's thighs, and his elbow. But the hand on Toris' shoulder left as well as the blond settled back onto both knees, releasing the Lithuanian's shirt. The brunette brought his arms up under his chin, his own breath hitching as he shifted to lay on his stomach and ended up giving the arousal under his clothing just the friction that it desired for only a moment. Ivan's small laugh came from above, and the knee pressed up between the Toris' long legs moved again, settling on the other side of Toris' thighs. Now the Russian nation straddled his subordinate's thighs, knees pressed firmly to either side as if to keep him from 'escaping'.

Everything was damp now. Clothing clung from sweat, exposed skin prickled in the cool air of the room, and even their heavy breaths carried a damp heat with every rise and fall of their chests. The hands returned, grasping the shirt that clung about Toris' shoulders to pull it off over his head. Before he could even smooth his hair back, those hands pressed down on his shoulder blades, pinning him. Thumbs pressed along Toris' spine, sliding downwards slowly. Ivan's palms were a bit less calloused than his fingertips, but none the less the texture was nice against his back.

"_Ohh…_" The smaller nation groaned as they slid down along his back. Green eyes closed, as there was no reason to keep them open, and Toris took his lower lip prisoner between his teeth again. Ivan's hands came to rest at Toris' lower back, his thumbs pressing and rubbing at the small indent there just before the swell of his backside. "Nnh..!" Toris' hips could only press up into them or down and away from them, as the blond's knees prevented anything else. And every way that he moved caused his full member to rub against the already damp and thankfully soft material of his pants.

"_Lift…_" Came the husky command, and Toris swiftly did so as those hands allowed him to. In an instant his pants were tugged all the way down to his knees, baring even more skin to the chilly air. The brunette gasped into the pillow, clutching it tightly in his arms. He released a shuddering breath as the hands which had pulled his pants down trailed back up the sides, shifting to the backs of his thighs until they reached his full cheeks again.

"_Mmnh…_" Toris hid his burning face in embarrassment even if it couldn't be seen; feeling those hands caress him there. Ivan's fingers indented the supple flesh, rolling his palms over it. The right hand continued this while the left slid around one narrow hip, fingers gracing the erection that he found there, dampening the sheets beneath it at the tip. "_Aaah…. Aah…_" The Lithuanian moaned, hips pressing forward into that touch at once. _Smack_! The sting spread out from where Ivan's right hand had struck the supple cheek it had been touching, and it was rubbed away just as quickly. It happened so quickly that the smaller nation didn't even have time to cry out, only to hiss in pleasure as the tingling spot was rubbed as the fingers of the other hand continued to trace the underside of his arousal.

Both hands left him suddenly; and the brunette moaned from their loss as well. He could feel the bed shift; hear the springs creak, and the sound of Ivan's hand sliding across the sheets. There was a tapping of those fingers finding wood, and the grating sound as the top drawer of his bedside table opened. Toris smiled in satisfaction as things shuffled, and then the weight had centered over his thighs again. "_Ah… _Hey…" He complained playfully as the small plastic bottle was set on his back so that Ivan could free his hands again. There was a quiet sound of clothing rustling, and then a small gust of air as something fell down beside him; Ivan's shirt, he guessed. More shifting of the springs and rustles of clothing, and suddenly Ivan's bare legs were against the sides of his thighs. Those unseen hands reached back, pulling off Toris' pants off of his ankles to leave them both completely exposed to nothing but the darkness and cool air.

The bottle was lifted again, snapping as it opened. "_Up,_" Came the new command, and how could he refuse? How could he even _think _of it? His hips left the warmth of the bed under him to rise up as far as he could go, until his hips met Ivan's waiting left hand. He wasn't lifted all the way on his knees, and like this his back was arched a little, so it was a bit difficult to stay in this position. Toris gave a small whine of complaint, but Ivan's chuckle was the only answer. That, and the slick fingers which found the crease of his thighs.

"_Mnh, Ivan…_" Toris gasped as they slid up along that line. "_Aah…aah_!" He cried out as they found their goal, the first slick digit pressing in to his body slowly but firmly. Ivan's left hand was merciful at least, moving to hold the brunette's hips to help him stay up. The smaller nation squirmed as the Russian curled his finger inside of him, thrust it slowly back and forth to test his tightness. Toris' voice was muffled by the pillow as he groaned, hips pressing back into that hand as much as he could manage. Ivan murmured something in Russian from above him, but his voice was so low and breathy that he couldn't quite catch it. The second finger was soon joining the first, wiggling in carefully until they were both pushed in as deeply as they could go.

Toris' arousal was alive and waiting below him, up off the sheets now and so unable to find any relief. He whimpered this time, but the pillow caught that as well. Ivan's fingers pulled back now, thrusting back in to stretch apart, causing the brunette to hitch his breath. Ivan repeated this process swiftly now, leaving the Lithuanian under him straining to keep his hips lifted as his body was made ready for more. The third finger squeezed in to join the other two, prompting another low moan from the one pinned on the bed.

The sheets were damp under his chest, and even his pillow was suffering from it. Hair clung to his face and neck, though it meant little right now. Disheveled meant nothing once they had reached this point, and they couldn't see one another anyway… "_Aah…_" Toris groaned as he felt all three digits slip free of his body, turning his face to the side so that he could breathe easier, damp cheek pressed into the pillow that he clutched. That feeling of loss and emptiness was devastating right now. "_Do it… hurry._" Toris breathed, and he heard Ivan suck in a swift breath. Such simple words could be so powerful against the Russian, and of course Toris knew this full well. Choosing to slip into Toris' bed in the middle of the night was one thing, but when Toris _told _him to finish it, Ivan felt that complete sense of validation that he craved so badly.

The old bed springs squealed in protest again as Ivan shifted his weight to one knee, sliding the other between Toris' thighs again. Skin stuck together with sweat like glue, sticky and hot. Toris spread his legs as he felt the bed dip between them now, Ivan bringing his left knee to join the right. In this position he was able to lift his hips higher, balancing on his knees better. Elbows pressed into the bed below him as he lifted his chest; breath shuddering as the air rushed in between his skin and the damp sheets which had been under him. Fingertips touched the small of Toris' back, and it had to be Ivan's hand because they weren't slick with lubricant. They slid upwards on slippery skin, tracing the arch of his back. Toris gave a whine of protest at the stalling, and Ivan chuckled from above him. Again that hand patted the sheets quietly, finding the bottle of lube again. Another snap as it opened, and then quiet.

The next thing that Toris felt was that left hand travel back down his spine to grasp his hip. The press came against his entrance, and Toris took in a slow breath as he felt that first initial press. "_Ahh…mmh,_" A small groan as it slid inside, and from there it was a slow and steady press. It was indescribable, the sensation of being slowly penetrated. A slick sliding of skin at a sensitive area, that hot and throbbing length, the press it gave from the inside that gave that satisfying feeling of _fullness._ And finally the touch of those wide hips against the damp skin of Toris' backside, heavy breaths falling over his shoulder blades as Ivan leaned down over him a little.

"_Bozhe moy…_" Ivan's voice was low, husky. It was such a contrast from his normally soft and higher toned voice at any other time, a voice reserved for Toris, in these moments. Ivan's right hand took up the other side of Toris' hips, fingers slick so that they had to grip as not to slide right off. Toris didn't mind that firm hold, the shudder it gave him anything but terrible. Toris released his pillow completely now, curling his fingers into the sheets for a tight grasp.

"_Move, please move_!" Toris groaned, pressing back against his lover's hips. Ivan's body didn't budge, and he gave a low chuckle.

"_As you wish, dorogoy._" He murmured, barely loud enough to reach Toris' ears over the sound of the Lithuanian's own short breath. Toris felt his cheeks burn at the little endearment, but he was only interested in Ivan doing as he'd asked right now. And he did, pulling his hips back from the curve of Toris' backside. There was a _slap _of flesh when Ivan thrust forward for their flesh to meet again, and that sensation of _sliding _was felt all over again.

"_Ah,_" Toris gave a small cry, but Ivan was pulling back again already. The next thrust was enough to give the smaller nation's body a small jolt, and Toris dug his toes into the sheets, gripping them tighter with his fingers to keep from moving too far. Ivan's hands holding his hips helped, and by that third wet slap of skin, Ivan had his rhythm. Each thrust was punctuated with a slap of flesh, a gust of breath or a small cry or moan. The bedsprings creaked in protest of every movement, only adding another sound to the once silent room. Even if they couldn't be seen, the sounds which filled the room were a clear testament to exactly what was taking place. Ivan's thrusts were heavy, each time their bodies pressed together allowing Toris to feel the taller nation's weight pressing down on him for just an instant before they pulled back again. Somehow, it felt even more intense when he couldn't see. The scent of sweat had become heavy around them, the smell of _sex. _They'd started out slowly, sensually; this was but a passionate decline from their steady buildup. Wind each other up, make each other burn until they felt crazy from it, and let it all out.

Oh, make was no mistake, this was _making love. _Not always this heatedly, this desperate, but this was a special time. A time of high anxiety; a feeling of impending events in which neither of them held any power over. Only one thing was for certain, and that was that they were together here and now. Physical gratification wasn't as important as the fact that they were _together _right now. "_Touch me, please_!" Toris soon begged, and Ivan was all too happy to oblige. His right, slick hand left Toris' hip. The lubricant left behind felt chilly, but his body was so hot that it didn't matter at the moment, especially not when those long fingers wrapped around his all too eager arousal. They closed around it snugly, stroking him at once. Each hot, slippery finger was a soft ridge of pleasure; especially as they slipped over the sensitive head of his erection each time—never fully leaving before sliding back down to repeat the motion. "_A-ah, haa, Ivan…_" Toris' voice rose above the other sounds—the breaths, bedsprings, and vulgar smack of flesh.

It wasn't long before he felt that coil tightening in his abdomen, like a slow and steady pressure. And with a sudden feeling like the snip of a string, it all released, letting forth the flood of pleasure. Toris gave a shuddering cry as he came, spilling his seed over Ivan's hand and onto the sheets below them. Ivan continued to stroke him for the duration of his orgasm, releasing him only when he'd stopped shuddering. That hand returned to his lip again—messy and wet. Toris gave only a small grunt of complaint at that, but he didn't deny Ivan his earned pleasure. The Russian's thrusts kept their pace for only a while longer before he gave a quiet, low cry of his lover's name. Those thrusts lost their rhythm as Ivan gave a powerful shudder, breath hitching from above, fingers gripping almost painfully tight—_almost. _Ivan was careful even in moments like this.

The haze of pleasure could last for quite some time if they did this right. Facing each other, Toris' arms around Ivan's neck and the Russian's about his waist, their skin was still a little sticky as they pressed together tightly, legs entangled. The sheets kept the cool air from their bodies now, lips sealed for a series of breath-stealing kisses. It was when Toris tasted something new with a kiss that he gave pause, licking his own lips. Salt. He couldn't see, but he knew the taste of tears. Ivan was skilled in this—staying perfectly calm even if a few tears slipped free. His breath didn't hitch and his shoulders didn't shudder. Toris only ran his fingers through Ivan's damp bangs, not mentioning the tears at all. Guiding Ivan's head to his chest, those fingers slid around to the back of Ivan's head, nails brushing his scalp. Ivan's breaths were slow, tickling Toris' chest.

"_I'm happy, meile. Right now, I am happy._" Toris said with all of the sincerity in his heart. Ivan only tightened his arms around Toris' waist, and the Lithuanian felt those shoulders relax. Ivan's breath shuddered only once, before it began to even out. He didn't have to say it out loud; _me too_.


End file.
